User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-2246928-20140724202222/@comment-2246928-20141206220630

"Aye..." Sored spoke through a clenched-tooth smile. "'Ow could ye..?" The fox from previously soon returned from the storeroom carrying several kegs and flasks filled with alcohol, and Sored gave him a blank look. "We ain't fightin' or lootin' no more. Put that back."

The red fox winked, setting the items down and holding one out for Raggs, smiling thinly at the searat. "I believe that would be Captain Raggs' decision now, wouldn't it?" The searat's gaze bore into that of the fox's for a moment, and then he shrugged, feigning sullen indifference. "Whatever y' say! 'Tis good ol' Capting Scarhide's choice if 'e wants to drink our stores!" He throws his paws up in the air in desperation before turning away, striding down towards the lower deck.

The fox uncorked one of his one bottles and took a swig of it, nodding to the ferret. "Call me  Damask, sir." His bushy tail swished once as he took another drink, before adding. "Damson Wine from Noonvale. Savor it."